Waiting For Song 19
by SisiDraig
Summary: It's all over. Their luck has run out. Howard and Vince have to live out the rest of their days behind bars and miles from each other... or do they? Not if Vince has anything to do with it. Mint Royale AU. Joint writen with the wonderful Swisstony! xx
1. Things To Make And Do

**Hiya!  
Okay so Tamsin (Swisstony) comes up with this brilliant idea to do a Mint Royale AU fic based around... well, you can read it and find out =]! And we decided we wanted to try an write it together... God knows how it's gonna turn out; lol. (Actually, we know as well because it's being cooked up in our brains as I type.)**

**D/C: Neither of us owns The Mighty Boosh... yet! We have hatched a cunning plan that should take effect on the 6th of July... bollocks, that was yesterday! =[**

**Anyway, this is our attempt at AU... We hope you love it and feel compelled to review *hint hint***

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I hate this.  
I really fucking hate this.  
Letters, fuck, who even … I want to see you.

Letters, I don't think I've ever written one. Do you remember the notes I used to pass to you at school? Under the desks. Desks, shit we're old. 'spect they don't have desks no more, those modern twatty brats. Lucky fucks. They were a bit like letters.

What was those things, those things that girls, other girls used to make? The triangle thing, you know with the colours, and initials of the people you fancied, how many kids you'd have, all that shit. I made one once. I know, me, making something. See you don't know everything Moon. I cheated, there's a surprise. I only wrote your name inside. No kids though, you ain't got the hips for it.

Whatever happened to that dog you wanted to buy? We never got round to that did we? We should have. Could have been like one of them surrogate baby things. You could have named it, fussed over it and been the Mum, and I could have been the abusive Dad, belting it when it pissed me off. I thought about buying one for you once, I even got a lead, looked up a couple of breeds, the low maintenance ones, course. I don't know what stopped me. Still, fuck knows what would have happened to it now, probably have gone into care. Do dogs go into care?

I'm worried about you. You need to be tougher, I can't … if I was there, but I'm not … you need to be strong. I can't do this if you're not there, do you understand?

Did you do anything for the other day? Anything special? Did you get anything in the post? I counted it, you know we've been together for 19 years! 19 years! I can't fucking believe it. You get less for murder, or well, so I've heard.

Where the fuck has the time gone? It's not fair, I want another go. I'm laughing, it was a joke. Wouldn't do anything differently. Well, nah, probably would have given that last job a miss. Before you think it, that WASN'T your fault.

I'm sorry. For all of this. For dragging you into this shitty, shitty life. You should be doing something wonderful. You're so clever. Yeah, I know I am too, but I don't apply myself do I? You should have done your masters. It was selfish, I'm selfish. I didn't want you to go without me, I'm sorry. I'll always be sorry for stopping you. No, I did, you know I did, I put pressure on you, you know how you are with pressure, I know it. You should be a professor, bet you could have written at least one decent book by now. Alright, two.

You should start writing again, keep your mind occupied, focused. Send it to me, nothing too dry though, I don't wanna slip into a coma and die, I ain't on death row. Not yet anyway. Do some of that cream poetry stuff. You're really good at up!

Don't do that tutting thing, it annoys the fuck out of me, and even more cus I can hear you doing it in my head. Yes my grammar is lazy! Yeah I got a 2.1 at Uni, but that was then, it was 11 fucking years ago! You know I never write anything, what was the last thing I wrote, that you saw me actually physically writing?

Yeah, okay birthday cards. And the occasional shopping list.

Shut up!

That ain't IS NOT writing is it?

Oh, get fucked four eyes!

Don't. You better fucking not. I ain't laughing, I'm serious, if anyone fucking touches you, you know what I'll do….

I dunno how to end this? That was pretty bad, as an ending, me threatening your 's our life though. There's never been a ME, not since I was thirteen, it's always been you. YOU! Us.

Christ, this is shit. I ain't gonna sign my own name, I can't, it feels….

I'll talk to you later. Like on the phone. Do you remember when you used to ring me, at night, when you'd go home for the weekends, and I'd be in halls, I used to fall asleep listening to your voice. You've got a nice voice Moon, have you ever thought about a career in audio books? Or voiceovers, reckon you could even sell insurance.

If I just do it quickly it won't hurt as much….

Vince xxx

Fuck, nah, that hurts just as much, it's looking at me. I feel stupid. My own name makes me feel stupid.  
I love you.  
I'll always love you.

--

Well little man, that's easily the most you've ever written. And most of it was spelt right. I'm impressed.

I hate this, too. I miss you so much, too much. It's like a physical pain inside me. Like melting cream in a … somewhere where cream melts. Oh I don't know. This place is suffocating me, I can't even write cream poetry anymore. I hate it. I want to see you. The only thing I have to remind me of what you look like is a crumpled, faded Polaroid, which would be alright but it's the one you put your grubby fingers all over before the photo had a chance to develop properly. It's all I have and it's ruined.

And I don't need a dog Vince. I wouldn't have time to look after it _and_ you! Don't swear and get all huffy. You know it's true. Can you even cook a proper meal? And don't make me bring up that time in Pompeii or that boat journey across the Atlantic. Not the best anniversary ideas, were they? One near a live volcano and the other on a boat your dodgy mate lent you. I always knew you were a tight git but hiring a (so called) 'cruise' with a hole in it … that was unbelievable. Still. Beats this anniversary I suppose. At least I was actually with you for those, and not staring at the cold, breezeblock wall of a cell.

I swear I'm going crazy in here. People are in for murder, Vince. Actual murder. And what if someone tries to rape me? Or kill me? Or worse? Okay, I'm not sure what would be worse but … I don't want to think about it. My cell mate's a right wanker … literally. He's at it now. It's distracting and disgusting. Doesn't he know I'm trying to write a heartfelt letter of apology? Because that's what this is; an apology. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't believe you when you said that Jimmy was trouble. I'm sorry that I got us into this mess.

Talking of Jimmy, did he bring you the chocolate brownie I made you? I bet he didn't. I saw him eyeing it up. I doubt he'd even left the prison before he'd munched it down. It was exactly the density you like and, yes, I added those chocolate chunks you love so much, and put an extra cup of sugar in. Though you don't need extra sugar, you're sweet enough. Oh God. Even I know that was cheesy. And, before you think it, I know these cooking classes aren't exactly the most manly thing in the world but at least it takes my mind off missing you so much. It helps. I don't suppose you do anything to take your mind of anything. I bet you wallow in self pity as much as is humanly possible. But you always loved to see yourself as the distressed hero. Though I guess we're not heroes. Heroes don't get arrested. Heroes don't have the love of their life ripped from them and taken to the other side of the country. Heroes don't get locked up in towers with murderers and rapists. Heroes don't need rescuing - I need rescuing, Vince. Please.

I can't cope here. I pretend I can cope. I act strong and tough like you told me too but I can't keep acting forever. You've said it before … I'm not that good an actor, that's why I hide in the shadows on these jobs and that's why you're the one who goes undercover.

I've written you a poem for our anniversary, though it's not one of my best and it's a bit late.

I love you like a rat loves a sewer and like a rat … you infest me,  
You consume me, creep through me,  
Find parts of me I didn't even know existed,  
It doesn't matter what I'm doing,  
You're only ever three meters from my thoughts.

I'd like to say it's a work in progress but it's not. It's all I can manage in this place. I think the never-ending concrete has diminished my brain power. Gone are the days of outstanding cream poetry; here are the days of appalling rat metaphors. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is;  
I love you. Always.

Howard xxx

--

Little man; I've missed you calling me that. I miss the sound of your voice. I miss you so much.

And Howard, calm down, okay.

I know it's hard but you have to be strong, yeah? You're not going to go crazy, I won't let you. If you lose it, who am I gonna have to talk to? Plus I'm the one with the crazy edge, not you, you'll wreck our dynamic.

Look, no one's gonna kill you. Not unless you get branded a snitch - this is one of those times when being teacher's pet is something you've gotta avoid, Howard, do you understand? Seriously, that's REALLY fucking important. And no one is gonna rape you either, you're a big fucking bastard Howard. Just give them that look you give me when I come home from clubs and stuff and I'm full of ale and pills, that always works. And don't draw attention to yourself, just keep your head down yeah, read a book or something, I'll send you some. Or you could go to the gym. Bet your old love handles have made a 'reappearance', you better not be getting all tubby and flabby in there especially if you're making brownies!And don't worry. I got the cake() off Jimmy. Trust me, he knows better than to cross me again. Fucking bastard! I still can't fucking believe what he did to us. To you! And I know you're thinking I should calm down but fuck off. If it wasn't for him … well…

Anyway, it was great, the brownie. It better not be a regular thing though. I don't wanna get fat. Or is that your plan? I reckon you've always wanted me to be a Teletubbie. Are you a secret feeder, Moon? No, I loved it. I miss your cooking.

And I reckon cooking is well manly, look at Gordon Ramsey, bet he could mess you up seriously. Most telly cooks are blokes now, ain't they? Just no fairy cakes, hey. I'm glad your doing it, I'm proud of you. Plus it'll look good when it comes to parole.

Which could be much sooner than you think … I'm working on it, four eyes. Could be the best anniversary present you've ever had. Even better than the ones you mentioned - Pompeii.

I can't believe you brought up Pom-fucking-peii! A lot of people would sell their souls to spend a weekend near an active volcano with me, Howard. I don't think you understand how lucky you were. And it weren't active, not really, that bloke said.

And that cruise was the most I could afford at the time. I was twenty-one, Howard. I had a massive student loan, and no fucking job, I was trying to be romantic on the small amount of money I had. The minimum wage was a lot less back then. I have never been tight when it comes to you. I bought you that fucking Porsche, didn't I?

And, since we're getting into this, lets talk about birthdays, specifically my twenty-fifth, my twenty-eighth and my well, you know that other one we DON'T EVER MENTION! Right where did you take me on my twenty-fifth, Howard? That Jazz club yeah, and what do I hate most in the fucking world? Jazz. Yeah, jazz. And what did you spend most of the night doing? Peering over my shoulder, while we had dinner, WHICH I PAID FOR, cus you 'forgot' your wallet! You just wanted to see that fucking band! It was my twenty-fifth! I still ain't forgiven you.

I can't believe you kept that fucking photo (and the fact it's ruined has nothing to do with my fingers) and don't say it's all you got. You got me and a life outside. And that house we bought with the heist money. Fucking opti- opta- optu- stupidly confident that was. But we'll live there when we get out. We'll go straight. Finally buy that fucking puppy you wanted or something with less upkeep - like a fish. And we can be bored out of our fucking skulls looking out over endless fields and bastard flowers - fuck, bet it's worse than prison. Sorry, I really hate the idea of going straight, even now. Dunno what I'm gonna do when we're not playing the game anymore. You still wanna go straight though, right? If you do, I will. I'll do anything to make this up to you, Howard. You know that. It's my fault we're in the mess, NOT yours, got it? It's not your fault!

I DON'T wallow. I brood, I am a brooder, Moon. Brooding is manly, wallowing's pathetic. I'm a distressed anti-hero. Bit like Robin Hood, you can be my Maid Marion, nah don't have a spaz attack, you can be Robin Hood's 'mate' who he has special cuddles with at night. Bit like sailors what miss their wives. Although we never gave to the poor, missed that bit out, went straight into the joint account. Still, we did buy that car for your sister, and my Mum and Dad have got a new swimming pool. Neither of us come from underprivileged backgrounds, though, do we?

Don't panic about your ability to write. You've probably just got writers block, you're always getting it … what do you expect when your main subject matter is comparing me with cream? CREAM! Where can you go with cream exactly? Just relax, yeah.

I have to get rid of the letters you send me but I'm keeping the poem. I know I shouldn't but I can't tear it up and flush it down the toilet. It's beautiful. Although, I don't fancy being compared to a rat, still I've got the nose for it. Maybe rats are your new muses, you can be Britain's leading rat poet. Even when you're not here, you make me remember Howard, you have to get rid of these letters from now on, okay. Just do it, I know what a sap you are … but you have to do this. I'll see you soon, I promise.

I know you love me.  
God we're soft, if any of my mates saw this letter they'd skin me alive, literally.  
I loves ya, too, Howard.  
Here goes…

Vince xxx


	2. Chapter 2

******* FLASHBACK*******

**Enjoy...**

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_Vince finished his cigarette, letting the thick black acrid smoke fill his lungs. The moment he finished one, he always wanted another, or at least something to do with his hands. He found a damp seat on the nearby bench. Vince clutched his backpack tightly against his narrow chest, swallowing down his nerves._

_He see him. Howard. Howard had always been tall. He towered over almost everyone else. Or he would have, if he didn't hunch over so much, his shoulders always sloping. He doesn't see Vince, not at first, at least. Vince saw him talking, nodding along with some girl, Vince had never seen before. The jealousy welled up suddenly inside of him. He hated it. Vince hated seeing Howard even talking to anyone else. Vince hated seeing the gaping space where he knew he should be. Where he should always be._

_She was short and dumpy with dirty-blonde plaits, which hung down, either side of her freckled face. She had been wearing dungarees, the strap dangling from one shoulder, and heavy red Doctor Martin's. As he'd watched them, there had been a part of Vince that couldn't shake the feeling that she had been the type of girl Howard should have been with. They had look right together. A million pictures of them, together, had suddenly and cruelly flashed through his mind. Vince saw them graduating, Howard's stuck-up parents and his sister looking proud. He saw them buying a people-carrier, getting married, having children. And all without him._

_Then Howard had caught sight of Vince, and he saw annoyance in Howard's gaze. But there had been something else, that twitch in the corner of his mouth; almost looks like relief. And Vince had known he'd won. He couldn't help but smirk._

"_What do you want?" Howard asked, a weary note in the tone of his voice._

"_Wanna see you.'" It had been the truth; Vince had wanted to see him. He always wanted to see him._

"_Howard?'" the girl interrupted as she'd glanced between the pair. Vince fixed her with a stare and watched her as she'd visibly shrivelled. Stupid slag!_

_Howard gave her one of those, '_I'm sorry my significant other is a twat,' _apologetic shrugs. It makes Vince hate him. "I'll a… I'll see you inside."_

_Vince smirked; Howard was getting rid of her._

_She'd looked at him again and then briefly back at Vince. She fucking fancied him. Vince had noticed it almost immediately. That whore, she had no chance. He'd reassured himself_

"_Yeah fuck off, we're talking," Vince snarl at her._

"_Vince!" The exasperated tone was back. Howard didn't try to defend her though. She 'd left, disappearing into the bland 1980's concrete building that had stood behind them._

"_Who, the fuck was that?" Vince hoped she'd die._

"_Grace. We're doing that presentation of the Romantics together. I told you this."_

_All Vince had really picked out from Howard's sentence had been 'doing' and 'romantic'. His blood had boiled._

"_I thought she was fat?"_

_He'd been flustered. Howard hated being late for anything. He frowned down at the face of the watch Vince had bought him last Christmas. It was a cheap leather thing I bought from Argos. It hadn't looked cheap though and it wasn't, not really, not for Vince. It had cost him most of that month's gas and electricity bills._

"_What? Fat? No, that's Sarah."_

"_Who, the fuck is Sarah?"_

_Howard was desperate to get away from Vince._

"_She came to the flat. You insulted her. Look, I don't have time for this. What do you want?"_

_Vince had suddenly remembered why exactly he'd been waiting for Howard for so long. "I'm sorry about last night, I didn't mean it." He'd changed tact._

"_Couldn't this have waited until later?" Howard glanced over Vince's shoulder, watching as his classmates had filed into the building without him._

"'_No I didn't know if you were still speaking to me? You barely said three words to me this morning." He saw the memory of their previous nights argument flash across Howard's features. He can tell that Howard had almost forgotten about it. Now he'd remembered to be pissed off, the muscles in his jaw clenched._

"_You're still going on about that? I'm busy Vince. I've got an exam tomorrow that I haven't revised for. I have to pass this module. I only got 21% for my coursework. I have to pass this…I can't get anything under a 60!" The colour drained from Howard's face. He looked like he was about to pass out or hyperventilate at any second. Howard didn't cope well with stress. He'd been just the same when they'd taken their GCSE's and A-levels. _

_Vince slipped his smaller hand in Howard and flashed him a smile. "You ain't gonna fail, Moon."_

"_Vince…" Vince's name escaped his lips in a defeated, crestfallen whimper._

"_I got you a present." Vince grinned._ This will make you love me. This will make you happy. This means we can go out tonight, guilt free clubbing! _He dragged Howard over to the bench, pushing his backpack up into his face._

_Howard stared blankly at the contents of the bags gloomy insides. "What's that?"_

_Vince let him lift it out, just up to the header. The pure, new, white paper blanched in the sun, almost glowing. It had reflected across Howard's face, the glowing whiteness._

"_Is this a question paper, Vince. I've already got this." Vince couldn't wait for Howard to catch on; he could be dead slow sometimes._

"_It's the answers, you div."_

"_For tomorrow?"_

_Vince swallowed down the sarcastic response that threatened to bubble up from inside of him. He nodded._

"_How did you get this?" Howard whispered._

"_I stole it," Vince answered simply._

"_You… you didn't break into Bobby's office did you?"_

"_Nah, the dappy cow left her window open. There was a couple of them on her desk. She won't miss it. Trust me Howard." He did, Vince knew he did._

"_And no one saw you doing this?"_

"_What do you think? Besides, it ain't my first time is it?" Well it wasn't, Vince had stolen for Howard's benefit before. The answer paper for his A-level history exam. Howard got the second highest recorded mark ever at their college. They'd put his picture in the paper. Vince had never been more proud, and Howard had never been more grateful._

_Howard pushed the paper back safely into its temporary hiding place. "That's alright then." He'd beams back at Vince._

"_Do you fancy going home and shagging" Howard had blushed at the sound of his own boldness. He'd never been very good at imitating that sort of thing._

"_What happened to _'I've got an exam tomorrow'?" _Vince quizzed innocently. Howard had ducked his head down overcome by his own embarrassment, and Vince had suddenly been flooded with so much love he thought his heart would burst from his chest._

"_I love you, you berk."_

"_I know you do, Little man." _

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**Please Review?? xx**


	3. Chapter 3

The bed creaked as Vince dragged himself from the cosy warmth and out into the cool air of the bedroom. He'd tried to be quiet but even as he pulled his pants on, he could hear Howard groaning into the morning.

"Morning." Vince smiled as he watched the older man blink and rub his eyes, trying to get accustomed to the light that shone through the slats of the blind.

"Morning," Howard grumbled. "What's the time?"

"Erm." Vince strained his neck to look at the alarm clock. "7.23."

"In that case, I have two more minutes of sleep to enjoy."

"Ge'up you lazy fuck," laughed Vince, grabbing a corner of duvet and pulling it off the other man abruptly**.**

Cold air attacked Howard from every angle and he let out a high-pitched squeak, scrabbling around for the duvet. Vince grinned triumphantly as he folded the duvet up in his arms and threw it to the floor.

"Up," he said, punctuating it with a sharp slap to Howard's left butt cheek. "Work," he grinned.

Howard let out one final groan and heaved himself up too. He walked over to the door and grabbed his dressing gown.

"Breakfast?" he asked as he tied the brown cord around his middle.

"Mm. Please," Vince said as he admired himself in the mirror. His eyes flicked up and he met Howard's gaze in the glass. "I remember when that dressing gown was so tight, it made you look like a string of sausages."

"That'll be the diet I went on," Howard said with an air of smug pride.

"I don't think I'll ever forget that fucking diet. All you did was moan the whole cocking time. And it was fucking expensive. Would have been cheaper if we'd just paid to get the fat sucked out of you. " Vince grinned wickedly, turning round to eye his partner, noting the pink hue that had risen in Howard's cheeks.

"Cheeky git. Don't tell me you haven't enjoyed the changes."

"Hmmm," Vince agreed. He had indeed enjoyed stealthier, more streamlined Howard. "I've liked havin' our own place, back again." He smiled, walking over and wrapping his arms around Howard's waist, burying his head in the older man's chest.

Howard grinned down at the top of his messy head. It was funny how things had changed between them over the years. There had been a time, well, not necessarily a time; it had been about ten years, when they couldn't keep their hands off each other but slowly that had ebbed away. It wasn't that they needed each other any less, everything was just more relaxed now, less desperate.

"I was thinking bout some of the shit holes we've lived in."

Howard could tell Vince was nervous because Vince was reminiscing and he only ever did that when he was nervous.

"Do you remember that first place Moon? The one next to that Kebab shop? Remember how big them rats were? They were the size of small fucking dogs. I reckon that's why you started to pile on the flab, you know. All them takeaways you use to inhale."

Howard let Vince go. He rolled his small eyes.

"Yes well, I couldn't really cook then, could I? And you never bothered. You still never bother."

Vince shrugged. So what if he didn't know how to do dishes, could barely make a sandwich without needing adult supervision, and had never washed a single item of his own clothing? He's never needed to. He'd gone straight from having his Mum do it all for him, to Howard. Still, he always had liked vacuuming. There'd been many times over the years Howard had returned home to find Vince frantically vacuuming away.

"Still ..." Vince muttered, as he returned to his original train of thought. "It's been nice; just me an' you again, like old times. But tomorrow it'll be back into hidin' with fuckin' Jimmy. Same old fucking crap." Vince clenched his fist and beat it against the wall. There was something about Jimmy that always made him see red.

"Ahh, he's alright." Howard tried to sooth.

"He's like a fucking third wheel. And he's thick as shit."

"He's the best driver we know." Howard winced as the sentence left his mouth. The words hung between them like a bad smell that no one wants to mention.

"'Part from me," Vince almost growled, glaring through his black fringe.

"Goes without saying," Howard agreed quickly. "But he's better than Handbrake. Remember him?"

"Handbrake." Vince hissed angrily, taking a step backwards. "That fucking knob! The only thin' he could do was a handbrake turn, and didn't we fucking know 'bout it? Got rid of him easy enough though, didn't we?" He smirked, as the memory of handing Handbrake over to the police came back to him. "Good times."

"Crazy days," Howard agreed, chuckling a little. He pressed a kiss to Vince's cheek, before jogging down the stairs.

It wasn't long before Vince was breathing in the smell of a glorious, home-cooked English breakfast and he continued to get dressed.

It had become tradition, cooked breakfasts before a big job. It had been that way ever since the first real job they did. Of course, back then they'd both been too sick with nerves to eat. They had just stared at the eggy, orangey mess they'd both made as they pushed their beans and fried egg around a plate. Vince remembered the way Howard had looked at him on that morning; so scared, yet so trusting. It had been small scale then, just a pair of tights and a pair of replica sawn of shotguns.

Howard had changed a lot since then. He'd worked his way up, becoming a technical wiz kid. There weren't many people in the business that were as good as Howard with a computer. He was almost more valuable than Vince now.

People needed Howard. However much Vince tried to act the big I am, he knew, deep down, that they'd only been given this job because of Howard's ability to manipulate numbers on a screen.

Jimmy was always tagging along with Howard now. Howard seemed to enjoy having someone to teach his craft to. Vince had never been interested in the technical side. It was all too much effort. He'd called Howard a coward a number of times for dodging the front line and sitting safe behind a machine but he hated that Howard was willing to teach Jimmy and not him. Never him. Vince clenched his fists tight at the thought.

Vince knew he was a jealous bastard. Howard knew it too. Hell. Everyone knew. Vince had suggested, on more than one occasion, they let Jimmy go the same way as Handbrake. But Howard would never let him, he'd always had some excuse and that got Vince riled even more. One day he'd just take out his gun and kill the prick dead, before Howard could even begin to think about stopping him.

Vince felt something sharp digging into his palm. He looked down to see his Flying V necklace. It had drawn blood he'd been squeezing it so hard. He sighed and flipped the necklace over. There was an inscription on the back;_VinceIt's only ever been you.I Love xxx_Soft git. Vince smiled as he put it around his neck. Howard had given him the necklace for their tenth anniversary. That was almost nine years ago. They'd been so young, so carefree, so in love. And, even if they weren't quite as young or as carefree, they were still in love, and that was what mattered. He grinned at his reflection in the mirror.

"Breakfast's ready," Howard's voice had risen up from the kitchen. Vince obediently made his way downstairs.

"What are you grinning about?" Howard quizzed him the moment he'd stepped over the threshold of their kitchen. The individually handcrafted stone floor tiles were cold under his bare feet.

"It's just …" Vince sighed. "Y'know I love you, right?"

"Of course." Apparently satisfied, Howard went back to reading the newspaper that was spread out over the kitchen table. He took another bite of French toast.

"I dunno what I'd do without you. I'd probably just fucking die or somethin'," Vince mused with a half-hearted chuckle. He made his way over to the cooker to plate up his own breakfast. That stupid cooker had cost about the same as two vintage jags. Howard treated it like it was his pride and joy. Whenever they had friends or family over, he'd always have to show them the cooker, even though they'd all been forced to see it about a million times before. And how the fuck did a cooker have different settings? What were they crispy and extra burnt? That's all it seemed to do when Vince had ever used it.

Howard smiled a little. "Don't be so melodramatic."

"Melodramatic?" Vince sat down next to Howard.

"Over the top. You're exaggerating. You wouldn't die. You're so strong." Howard poured them both a cup of coffee from the cafetiere. It was all so middle class.

"Not without you. You're all that fucking matters. All that's ever mattered."

"What's brought all this on, eh?" Howard glanced up from his paper and rested his hand over Vince's.

"Nothing. Just say it back, yeah?"

"Vince," Howard said determinedly, as he caught Vince's face in his strong hands, holding him so he was forced to look straight into Howard's deep brown eyes. "I love you. You. And I'm never gonna leave you. I'm always gonna be right here, just like I've always been. Just like everyday since we met back at school."

Vince nodded. "Ever since I threw the sharpener at your fat head, coz you wouldn't pay any attention to me?"

"Ever since then."

"Ever since I smashed your glasses when we were fifteen, 'coz you said without them you could only see one person, and that was only if they stood close? I liked the idea that you could only see me and everything else was a horrible blur. I had to protect you then, Moon. You had to trust me."

"Hmm. Wait. I didn't know you smashed my glasses."

Vince's face blanched a little. "Didn't you?"

"No. I knew you took them off me. You said you'd put them on the wall and that lard-arse Larry had sat on them."

"Did I?"

"Yes!"

"Fuck. Well, yeah … that's what happened."

"You dick!" Howard shoved him in the shoulder. "Well… I fucking loved you," Vince protested, "and I liked it when you were all dependent on me. Still like that. Take your glasses off yeah, four eyes? Wanna see you properly."

"But then _I_ can't see _you_ properly."

Vince shrugged and reached up to pull the glasses from Howard's face, putting them gently on the kitchen table. He never let anyone else touch his glasses… ever. He'd even freaked out when his six-month-old niece had made a playful grab for them.

"Beautiful." Vince smirked.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," Howard groaned.

Just as their lips met, the phone rang. They jumped apart and stared at it. The time had come. The game was on.


End file.
